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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247064">Fun, Fun, Fun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melibe/pseuds/Melibe'>Melibe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Car Chases, Crack, M/M, Queen (Band) Lyrics, the beach boys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:00:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melibe/pseuds/Melibe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>And he'll have fun, fun, fun, till his mother takes the Bentley away . . . </em>
</p><p>In which Crowley is the protagonist of a Beach Boys' song.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fun, Fun, Fun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Look, everything is surreal right now, someone in my house put on an actual LP, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klUs9CjDoRw">this song</a> played, and this fic happened. Please enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mom, I’m taking the Bentley, okay?”</p><p>Anthony’s mother glanced up from her book. “What for?”</p><p>“Going to the library.” Anthony jingled the keys in one hand as he slid on his sunglasses with the other. “I’ve got a report due on Friday.”</p><p>“All right. Not a scratch on the paint—”</p><p>“—not a skid mark on the road,” he finished. “I know, Mom. Ciao!”</p><p>
*
</p><p>
 <em>I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky</em><br/>
<em>Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity</em><br/>
<em>I'm a racing car passing by</em><br/>
<em>Like Lady Godiva</em><br/>
<em>I'm gonna go go go</em><br/>
<em>There's no stopping me</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>“Good lord, what was that?” Ezra stopped biking to press a hand over his racing heart. He’d nearly been deafened by the car that had just blazed past, though he wasn’t sure if the engine or the music was to blame.</p><p>“You mean <em>who</em> was that,” said his friend Anathema, scowling after the departed vehicle.</p><p>“Who was that, then?”</p><p>“Anthony J. Crowley.” Anathema’s lip curled. “Showing off again. No respect for cyclists or pedestrians.”</p><p>Ezra stared at the black lines left by the car’s tires when it cornered. He knew who Anthony was, of course; everyone did. And everyone (except Anathema, apparently) had a crush on him, so there was nothing special about Ezra’s reaction to the name. He patted his chest briskly to inform his heart that it was time to settle down, then gripped his handlebars. “Well, we certainly can’t let a speed demon like that divert our course. On to the library?”</p><p>“Those books won’t read themselves,” agreed Anathema with a gleam in her eye. She hopped back on her bike, and Ezra followed.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>Buddy you're a boy make a big noise</em><br/>
<em>Playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day</em><br/>
<em>You got mud on your face</em><br/>
<em>You big disgrace</em><br/>
<em>Kickin' your can all over the place</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>“Hey sweetheart, do you have a license for driving me crazy?”</p><p>“Watch out for speeding tickets, ‘cause you’ve got fine written all over you!”</p><p>The Bentley peeled out amidst a choir of flirty shouts and catcalls. Anthony grinned, driving one-handed as he sucked on a chocolate shake. A burger and fries sat untouched on the passenger seat. He wasn’t really hungry, but In-N-Out was the best place to start a good chase.</p><p>Sure enough, there was Duke in the rear-view mirror, revving up his ‘32 Ford coupe. Anthony cruised down the boulevard slowly enough for him to catch up.</p><p>Leaning out the window, Duke shouted, “You better give me that kiss when I win!”</p><p>“Promised, didn’t I?” Anthony called back. “But you never will.”</p><p>Anthony turned his head in an exaggerated motion from left to right, as if he couldn’t decide which way to go, then abruptly swerved down an alley. After dodging a few dumpsters, he emerged into a quiet residential neighborhood.</p><p>When Duke’s coupe nosed out of the alley, Anthony waved cheerfully from where he was idling the Bentley in a cul-de-sac. It was an obvious ruse, but Duke wasn’t the brightest star in the sky. He pulled around the corner to block the middle of the road, and Anthony promptly accelerated up over the sidewalk and part of a lawn, blowing past the Ford with half an inch to spare.</p><p>Duke swore and gunned his engine in reverse, but he’d had his chance—Anthony wasn’t giving him another one. With a few quick turns the Bentley slithered out of the neighborhood and onto the highway.</p><p>Anthony’s grin faded when he glanced at the food in the passenger seat. He wasn't interested in Duke, or in any of the others who chased him. But he was starting to think it might be nice to have somebody sitting there. Somebody to eat with. Somebody to laugh with. Somebody to . . .</p><p>*</p><p>
  <em>Can't we give ourselves one more chance?</em><br/>
<em>Why can't we give love that one more chance?</em><br/>
<em>Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love</em><br/>
<em>Give love, give love, give love, give love, give love?</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>“No more chances, Anthony!”</p><p>Anthony gazed longingly at the shiny keys clenched in his mother’s hand. “But I swear, I didn’t put a scratch on her—”</p><p>“What about skid marks on the road? Hmm?”</p><p>“I didn’t see any,” Anthony hedged. He should have known better than to pull that trick in Mr. Tyler’s cul-de-sac, but it wasn’t his fault that Mr. Tyler’s cul-de-sac was the best place to pull that kind of trick. It was just bad luck that Mr. Tyler had been home, and knew his mother’s phone number.</p><p>“What about skid marks on the <em>sidewalk</em>? No, don’t answer that. It’s not even the point.” His mother glared. “The point is, you were playing hot rod with your friends when you told me you were going to the library.”</p><p>“I <em>was</em> going to the library. Eventually. My report really is due Friday!”</p><p>“So, go.” She handed Anthony his bike helmet.</p><p>*</p><p>
<em>Got no feel, I got no rhythm</em><br/>
<em>I just keep losing my beat</em><br/>
<em>I'm okay, I'm alright</em><br/>
<em>I ain't gonna face no defeat</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>Ezra sat happily in a nest of books on his favorite subjects—mythology, mysticism and prophecy. Across the table Anathema was similarly ensconced, although her reading material skewed toward magazines. Occasionally one friend would pass a reference to the other, accompanied by a brief outburst. “Nostradamus was perfectly clear—” “But the latest New Aquarian claims—”</p><p>When the library doors slid open, Ezra glanced up with a mild curiosity that instantly became fascination. There stood Anthony J. Crowley, leather bookbag slung over one shoulder, sunglasses firmly in place as if the library’s fluorescent lights were too much to bear.</p><p>Ezra tried to stop staring before Anthony caught him. He failed. While he was wondering if it was possible to combust with embarrassment, Anthony just smiled and sauntered right over.</p><p>Anathema’s head snapped up. “<em>You!</em> You almost ran us over.”</p><p>“Sorry, book girl.” Anthony dropped his bag on the table and sank into a chair beside Ezra. “Lucky you had a guardian angel, eh?”</p><p>“It’s Anathema,” she said crisply. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Comparative Religions paper,” he answered with a grimace. “Due Friday.”</p><p>“And you’re starting your research at—” Anathema looked at the wall clock. “Four p.m. on Wednesday afternoon? How positively proactive.”</p><p>Anthony leaned back in his chair. “I’ll have you know I started my research several hours ago, by reading the assignment for the first time.”</p><p>Ezra wished that he could banter as easily as Anathema. Anthony must think he was boring or stupid, just sitting there. At least he could introduce himself. “I’m Ezra, Ezra Fell,” he blurted out.</p><p>Anthony turned to him and took off his sunglasses, treating Ezra to a surprisingly soft look in his warm brown eyes. “I know who you are,” he said. “You gave your <em>phone</em> away.”</p><p>“Oh, I, well,” said Ezra intelligently. It had been the exchange student’s first day, and she’d clearly needed it more than he did. He’d rather hoped that everyone had forgotten about it by now. Quickly he asked, “What’s the topic for your paper?”</p><p>“Armageddon.” Anthony looked as bleak as if the end times were actually upon him.</p><p>But Ezra lit up. He wiggled in his seat. He almost clapped his hands. “What a marvelous subject, and you couldn’t have come at a better time! We have practically all the references you’ll want right here, though I think a trip the stacks is in order for a few more esoteric titles. Here, let’s start you off properly with the Old Testament. Ooh, we’ll have fun with this!”</p><p>Ezra realized he’d gotten a bit too enthusiastic when he saw Anthony's mouth fall slightly open. He began to fumble out an apology, but then Anthony touched his hand.</p><p>“Yeah,” said Anthony, a little smile on his lips. “We’ll have fun.”</p>
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